


wyrd

by solivaganteros



Category: Original Work
Genre: Fantasy, Gen, Gods, High Fantasy, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:22:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23752294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solivaganteros/pseuds/solivaganteros
Summary: Alexithymia is common in many seers, but my privilege of sharing a power through internal battle and someone else’s provides explanations that were previously thought to be impossible.
Relationships: Jacus/Janko, Original Male Character/Original Male Character





	wyrd

**Author's Note:**

> nothing special just posting oc stuff lol

Destiny is an answer to questions we’re light years away from thinking about. It’s a secret, blooming in trees or laid like fertile eggs. 

As a seer, I was made to accept it. I’m uncertain if my partner is willing to, but my mind is a pathway of mirrors, tessellated in almost a cosmogyral sense, literal in its purpose. Abstractions fade into reality when the physicality of nothing suddenly materializes with how you feel, a gift, yes, but quietly lifeless, impermanent. 

Unfair, because it was designed by fate, pointless and melancholic since the beginning. A game of amusement dealt with tests that broaden horizons and limits to be broken, being observed for study. 

Destiny, to our Ypsovisus, is entertainment. To be born into a world of nothing and being made to create from it, with blurred fate and almost broken pathways into searching for an end, in my revelation in questioning purpose and existence, has given me an answer. 

There was no anger. No happiness. Shock, would have sufficed, instead I studied the feeling, and a black box sat itself in the air.

Black, quietly associated within the despairing ache in my core. Compacted, heavy. And when I put my focus on it entirely, it grew bigger.

Alexithymia is common in many seers, but my privilege of sharing a power through internal battle and someone else’s provides explanations that were previously thought to be impossible. 

A rose that blooms in the right of my chest when my partner sees me is a symbol of his affections, in return I place it where my life is sourced, at the very center of my core, swallowed gently. 

When the reflection of my face is seen from a mirror created from him, he creates a form for me to take over, a substitute, in that way, existent yet temporary.

Although, sometimes, in my unconsciousness, I peer to a further path of destiny. I see a mirror, in the reflection is a projection of my own face, younger, smaller. Hair curlier, skin considerably paler. I still remain uncertain as to what it fully means, but in the space I appear in, it seems that fate is just as confused as I am. 

Who are you, with my face, my words, my body? 

You see me as well, but you don’t find the need to answer because you think too much of the same thing.

You’re standing in my place, but I don’t mind.

I’ve accepted it. It’s only fate.


End file.
